Heal Me
by InsertHumor
Summary: When nightfall hits the gang during the march to Las Vegas, Mamori attempts to tend to the wounds of Hiruma during a resting period. ONESHOT.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing Eyeshield 21, no characters, nothing.**

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The velvet scarf of sky and stars intertwined proved to be a commendable spectacle for those that would gaze upon its beauty.

"Mamori! Bandage me up too! I feel as if only your feminine touch can soothe my pain!" Monta unconvincingly pretending his leg was wincing in sheer and utter pain, so much so that he seemed to stray from where the original place of pain originated as Mamori inched closer to him. "Mamori has healing powers! Max!"

"I know what'll help ease your pain Monta! How about me and Komusubi give you a grand ol' hug? Nothing heals better than a hug of friendship!" Kurita signaled Komusubi who replied with a firm but delighted "Hnngo!" and proceeded to embracing the wide receiver tightly.

"Pain! Max!" Monta's eyes bulged out of his head while struggling to escape from the linebackers clutch and into Mamori's sweet and floral scent.

Jumonji, Kuroki, and Togano poked fun at the monkey-faced boy but were regarded with a mocking expression and noise from Komusubi.

"Hah? Hah? HAAAAH? You think we can't grip tighter than you? We'll show you!" the Hah-Brothers yelled simultaneously while advancing toward the soon-to-be group hug.

"Mamori!" Monta yelled into the sky when he noticed she had left.

Mamori slowly walked over to the silently private space Hiruma occupied his presence with. Tapping away on his labtop and chewing his minty gum, he didn't snap to attention as the sound of footsteps gently approached him. He extended his arm to carefully touch the red wound on his right knee, the sleeves of his pants rolled up to where he could get a better analysis on his current condition. Hiruma slightly winced at the sharp sting of his knee but immediately shrugged it off as he heard someone coming closer to him.

"What do you want, damn manager?" Hiruma asked expressionlessly. "I'm busy, go attend to those damn brats and love-struck baboon."

Mamori knelt down, her face parallel to his wounded knee, and said sadly, "I'm not going, please keep still."

Hiruma started to move his leg around in an effort to shake off the manager currently tending to his knee.

"Hiruma! Stop! Hey! What are you doing?" Mamori stood up and tried to stop his leg, but in the effort she lost her balance and fell toward the quarterback.

Mamori's face was inches apart from Hiruma's slightly shocked face, the only occasion where she would witness this occur would be when route-plans in a football match didn't go the expected way. The manager's arms entrapped both sides of the still quarterback. His hot breath consistently impaled the skin of her face with subtle electricity as her knees leaned on Hiruma's knees for needed support.

There was something about the night sky that made the features of the quarterback come alive. The labtop slightly impaired the vision of the manager. The visible crinkles of his shirt which signified the outline of toned muscular structure and slightly agape mouth practically begged for her physical touch. The moonlight that shined on the lips attracted the eyes of the manager, they were so elegant. How could they belong to such a demon?

The emerald eyes of the quarterback stared intensely at the manager, "You're heavier than you look, damn manager."

Mamori's face became flushed and flustered at the same time, "E-excuse me for trying to help! I was just trying to-" Her words were cut off when a familiar voice creeped up from the distance.

"Mamori! Hey Mamori!" Sena called after his childhood friend.

"Maybe she's with the coach, let's go find out," Yukimitsu placed a hand on Sena's shoulder and pointed toward a different direction.

Overhearing the words of Sena, Mamori's sour mood swiftly shifted into a sweet smile. There was only one thing that could whirl around her attention, and that was Sena. Hiruma's features twitched with annoyance as soon as he heard the manager's name escaping the lips of the Mamori's "special" pipsqueak. Noticing that Mamori was slowly withdrawing from her odd position, the quarterback spun her around so that her body rested on his lap. Hiruma's arms snaked around the waist of the manager, who slightly shivered at the abrupt contact. Resting his chin on the crook of her neck, he spoke in a low tantalizing voice, "Heal me, damn manager."

The long scarf of velvet black and glowing stars never looked so beautiful.

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**Thanks for reading!**


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